Those Who Remember
by Faltering News
Summary: Arthur was on his way to Mr Cutty's butchery, he wanted to inform him of Edmund's condition when- "Did you hear about Mrs Sapper? She found a bomb buried in her garden! Lucky it didn't blow her up." He paused momentarily, although he never heard the lady's name, he knew exactly what the wellie was talking about. Really, how often was it that he saves an old lady by accident?
1. Chapter 1: The Garden

Arthur walked the streets of St. George's Holm, he had a bounce in his step- but not from joy, he avoided that like the plague! No in fact it was the effects of a new "drug", called 'Sunshine'. It allowed Arthur to look as if he had popped a joy, without all the nasty side-effects and withdrawals. As he past by a wellie, he gave a friendly wave. "Lovely day for it!" Arthur chirped.

The wellie looked at him with an unsettling grin spread upon his mask.  
"Did you hear about Mrs Sapper? She found a bomb buried in her garden!" the joyful citizen began to chuckle as he continued, "Lucky it didn't blow her up." Arthur stopped for a second. He remembered about this all too well, not because he heard about it, but because he was the reason the bomb didn't blow the lady up in the first place!

* * *

_Arthur set his broken jimmy bar to the side, he had opened someone's window. He hoisted himself up on top the window sill, climbing inside hesitantly. This was the first time Arthur had gathered the courage to break into anyone's house, in St. George's Holm, at least. He was beginning to run out of sewing kits and other crafting items and didn't have the sovereigns to buy new ones.  
Arthur snuck around the first floor, careful when turning corners. He opened the wooden side-table beside a sofa. Nothing. Not wanting to leave empty-handed he warily climbed up the stairs, being as light as possible on his feet. He winced at the slightest creak he heard as he made his way up, however, he was so fixated on not making sound that he didn't notice the Spanker hanging on the ceiling.  
"**You must take your joy IMMEDIATELY**"_

_It sounded out, quite loudly. This shook Arthur from his thoughts, his head drew upwards toward the source of the sound, complete and utter fear washing over his face._

_"**You must take your joy IMMEDIATELY**" It repeated, this time though, it had begun to charge up a bright laser. Arthur visibly paled at the sight. Just as the beam shot, Arthur reeled back, falling down the stairs. He blinked his eyes open, groaning painfully.  
"WHO'S THERE?!" At the sound of the crier on the second floor, Arthur jumped upright and bolted toward the front door. He could hear steps coming down the stairs quickly. Throwing the door open, Arthur dashed outside the house- forgetting about the 'no running' rule. He aimed for the front gate, panicked when-_

**_BOOM_**

_Arthur felt his ears ring, he felt numb at first. Confused as to what had happened, he slowly pulled himself to a sitting position and looked behind him. His eyes grew wide at the sight before him._

_"Oh, bloody hell..." he murmured to himself._

_ There was a huge divot at the front of the lady's house. Arthur must have stepped on a mine or something. Cool sweat fell down his face, he just narrowly avoided being blown up!  
He felt feint and the world began to swirl around him, only now did the pain begin to settle into his body. "Ghck- "He cringed from the burning sensation running up his legs.  
Slowly, Arthur began to stand up the pain becoming a little more bearable._

_"HEY- YOU DOWNER, STOP RIGHT THERE!" _

_Arthur turned around to the furious bobby running toward him, his baton readied. Arthur immediately twisted his body around in fear as he limped in the opposite direction, a crowd of wellies beginning to form. They all wanted to find out what all the fuss was about._

_Arthur found himself dodging the wellies when they came from the front. And boy, was his heart pounding! Frantically glancing at his surroundings, he saw an alleyway a little farther up ahead, he turned his head slightly to look behind him._

_"Thank god…" he mumbled breathlessly. There were only a few wellies still following, along with the bobby. However, unlike the bobby, the wellies were beginning to fall behind._

_"Jesus Christ- I... I can't keep doing this...". Almost there, just hold on a little longer Arthur... Come on, you're so close, don't give up now legs!_

_Taking a very sharp turn, he made it into the alleyway. He could barely see, since it was so dark and all that he could feel was the urge to collapse. Not seeing the brick sticking out slightly, Arthur tripped. "Shi- "he bit back a cry of pain.  
A set of footsteps echoed in the alleyway, gradually getting closer. Soon enough the mask of a red bobby came into view as the tall figure squatted beside him, tilting his head._

_Shit that's creepy.._

_"Well then lad, you took a bit of a tumble." Arthur didn't reply, shuddering at how ominous the guard's voice was. "You put up a good fight, never seen a downer limp quite as fast." The bobby's tone seemed a little friendlier now, it was odd to Arthur._

_The taller man let out a sigh, opening his eyes slowly. "Look, downer. I am not going to hurt you, as long as you don't try any funny business." Arthur hesitantly nodded.  
"You see, someone I knew- someone close to me, they couldn't take joy." The bobby sat down. "I don't know- I think it was something to do with the flavour? Thing is, their body rejected it." _

_"She was titled as 'downer'. Even though she wanted to take joy. Oh, how she begged." Shaking his head, the guard let out a frustrated huff._

_"She got outcasted, never seen 'er since…" There was an uncomfortably long pause, the bobby just stared into space with a longing gaze. He finally turned his head around and looked back at Arthur. He stood up and held his hand out._

_"Now, I don't know if you're a downer by choice… I don't even know if your reason for avoiding joy is justified. But it doesn't matter, because that is your choice." Arthur looked at the outstretched hand and back at the constable. A faint smile crossed his face, something quite rare for him. He nodded and took the hand, allowing himself to be pulled up._

_"There ya' go lad- now don't let me catch you doing this again!" The bobby joked lightly, giving Arthur a pat on the back. He began to escort Arthur toward his shelter, giving him some healing balm. "Don't want that to get worse now, do we?"_

_The bobby waved toward Arthur, seeing him off, "Have a lovely day, constable!" Arthur waved as he disappeared into the bunker. Finally, I made it back…_

_"What a day…" Arthur sighed as his tense shoulders began to finally relax._

* * *

Arthur grinned at the memory, I wonder how the constable is? Skipping pleasantly, he began on his journey to the butcher's. He felt bad for Edmund, Percy's friend. Being beaten up for god-knows-what! I guess I'm just glad I got there in time to help him..

Arthur had decided on finishing Edmund's job, so that he wouldn't get into trouble for not delivering the packages and quitting his job. He just needed to inform.. What was his name? Ah yes! Mr. Cutty- What an unfortunate name really, you would think he was a psychopath!  
Stepping into the butcher's shop, he waved to the man, trying to ignore the constable staring at him.

"I don't suppose you've seen my meat boy, Edmund?" The butcher asked. Arthur was a little hesitant in his response.

"The.. uh, Plough-boys broke his legs.." The butcher let out a sigh "Well, that's a damn shame, he's simple y'know?"

"But, reliable."

"I dropped off his packages.. and uh, the ladies gave me these- "Arthur clarified, handing over the rotten mushrooms. "Oh- Lovely, there's quite a shortage of cows in Hamlyn, I can tell you that!" The butcher chuckled. Arthur felt quite unsettled by this, like there was something… More to it, than just a good all fashioned joke..

"Listen, we've got one smaller.. Uh… Errand, if you're up for it!" Mr Cutty then leaned closer and whispered, "I'll give you what I pay Edmund."

"An errand?"

"Another pick-up, kinda big."

"How big?"

"How tall would you say you are? 6 foot? About.. 6 feet big. My- uh… Source had it on a cart."

"Here, I'll give you a map. It's near- um, near where that statue used to be.. Y- y'know, with the mad hatter and the white rabbit and the- th-the woman. Y'know where they were gonna build a band shell and.. didn't."

"I know the place. I- uh, can't make any promises.." Arthur hesitantly replied, paying no mind to the butcher's stutters.

"Of course not, a nod is as good as a wink- Say no more, say no more!" He sung.

"I'll make sure they'll write on the package where you're supposed to take it." Mr Cutty paused for a bit, "It's a bit.. awkward to bring it directly here.. hehe." He let out another unsettling chuckle, making Arthur visibly shiver.

He stepped back outside, thinking about how odd the man had spoken. This was a heiness package, wasn't it? Arthur thought grimly to himself.

He looked on his map, using his newly found memory to see where the place Mr. Cutty, talked about was. Half his eye on the map and half on the wellies, he made his way to the 'package'. Finally, once he arrived at his destination, he looked up from his map properly, to see two bobbies guarding it.  
Arthur gulped, it wasn't often you would see _two _bobbies guarding a scene. They were poking and prodding at the cart curiously with suspicious eyes. One of the guards spotted Arthur nervously glancing at the cart. He stepped forward, tall and bulky, unlike Arthur, who _was _tall, but lither than he was, strong.

"Sir, may I ask you to kindly step back." He waved Arthur off a bit. "The constabulary has this all under control, it is just an inspection."

The other bobby guarding the area looked over his shoulder. "Constable Byrne' Jones, we don't want to give too much away to such a wonderful citizen!" He smiled, it had a hint of urgency, like perhaps he was giving to much away.

"Yes, you're quite right, Constable Morland." The constable turned back round toward Arthur. "Sorry, sir. We assure you, it is nothing to worry about." He smiled brightly, mumbling a little "Not that the constabulary is appreciated these days.." under his voice.

However, as quiet as the guard thought he was being, Arthur heard him loud and clear. An idea popping into his head, like a fresh batch of joy. Slowly he pulled out some Scotch and handed it to the bobby, handing another to the second bobby when he became jealous.

"Well, I just want you to know that your work is appreciated!" Arthur glowed.

The constables turned to one another shrugging it off and thanking Arthur, deciding to take a quick break.

By the time Arthur finally got to the package, it was night. Which was both a good and bad thing. The good thing was; there was less people. The bad thing.. Well, there was more bobbies. He let out a silent whimper at the sight of the package. The shape was all _too _familiar for comfort.

_Oh god, Percy. What have I gotten myself into?_


	2. Chapter 2: Cutty's mechanical kitchen

Arthur shuffled into the alleyway, dumping the 'package' right where it said to. Clapping the dust off his hands, Arthur stepped to the front of the store and entered.  
"I- uh.. Got that _package_…" He spoke to the butcher. "Good, GOOD!"

"You're _brilliant _y'know that?" complimented Mr. Cutty.

Again, that _unnerving _feeling returned to Arthur. Something wasn't quite _right _about Mr. Cutty. Other than of course, the package hidden right behind the store.

"I got a more permanent job, if yer up for it! The choice, of course is yours." He directed Arthur into a small room with two doors. "Just go through that door if you want to take the job."

Arthur did hesitate for a moment. He didn't want to do this so-called 'job', but he didn't know what would happen if he upset the butcher. Making a final decision, he walked to the exit. Maniac or not, he didn't want to get into any deeper shit than he already had to.

"Wrong choice there, lad." Was all Arthur heard before he felt the shock of a spanker electrocuting him.

Arthur woke up gasping for air, the world around him was quite blurry and dim. His hands reached around the floor.

Where- where are my glasses?!

He anxiously thought, before finally he felt his hands brush up against the familiar object. Picking them up, Arthur slid them onto his face, blinking his eyes a few times, letting himself adjust.

He attempted to recall the memories that had led him to this stage, but to no avail. Glancing around the room he saw posters and diagrams for meat, and where it came from. Arthur felt overwhelmed and dizzy. The feeling getting worse when he realised the door was jammed. Tense, he reached for his lock-picks.

"Where are my things?" he mumbled

He jumped as his train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a voice blurting out from a speaker.

"Welcome to Cutty's Mechanical kitchen! Featuring the latest in meat packing technology!" Arthur groaned inwardly, unwanted memories flooding back into his head. _God how was he supposed to get out of this predicament? How did he even get himself into this?_

"It used to take days to dismantle a carcass. With my new inventions, one apprentice can reduce a carcass to it's edible parts in no time at all." Arthur felt nauseous again, but Mr Cutty continued.  
"Now the first thing I need you to do is obtain the package from the upstairs cold storage room. Don't worry, at not point will you have to unwrap the package, the magic all happens through the provided access valve!"

Arthur hesitantly stood up, nearly overcome by dizziness. The door that, just a few moments ago was jammed, creaked open. He stepped out of the room, looking left and right, anxious to step outside of the 'safe-haven'.

As soon as he mustered the courage to leave the space, he looked upon in horror as he saw all the machinery covered in blood and gore.

Bile rose up in Arthur's throat, but he swallowed it with disgust. How crazy _was _Mr Cutty?

He turned to a room that had heavy-set metal doors. This must be that freezer, the one with the… Package. He shuddered slowly opening the doors.  
A puff of cool air and rotten stench blew into Arthur's face as the door opened. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the smell. Opening his eyes, he saw the 'package', picking it up.

"First, we must exsanguinate the package!" Arthur jumped, nearly dropping the corpse.

"Bring it down to the Exsanguinator." Arthur stepped down the stairs cautiously, noticing all the Spankers hanging above him on the ceiling. He gulped loudly, there had to have been at _least _one for every room! He made it to a machine that had a huge glass containment device, with questionably red liquids being held inside.

"Before you mount the package, you'll need to operate each machine _once; _just to clear any residue and check its operational soundness."

"Don't want to contaminate the product, _do we_?"

I think contamination is the least of our worries here.. Arthur thought begrudgingly. He spun the valve, letting the machine clear out, like he had been told. The machine made odd sounds, sounds he was sure weren't mechanical. A grimace spread upon his face, Arthur mounted the 'package' and turned the valve once-more.

The machine and corpse made dreadful sounds that would surely haunt Arthur in his nightmares, as well as his every waking moment.

The machine came to a stop, dropping the body to the ground, and reluctantly Arthur picked it up. Great, something else to remember.

"Next up, _evisceration!" _

"That would be the… The uh-_ Eviscerator_?" Arthur sarcastically responded.

The butcher either hadn't heard or just paid no attention to this, as he had begun to explain how to work the next machine; promptly reminding Arthur test the machine first. Arthur pressed the button, this time very mechanical sounds whirred from the machine, very _bad _mechanical sounds.

"Was it supposed to do that?" Arthur asked innocently.

"Did you _not _see the blades come out?" Mr Cutty abruptly spoke over the speaker.

"No.. Just sparks."

"Oh, dear. The commutator has overloaded again. I thought I fixed that." This time the butcher sounded quite distressed

"Surely you should come down and fix it?"

"HAH! I'm quite sure you can manage it on your own. There's a spare one in the storage cupboard downstairs. You can only insert it one way." He sounded quite confident.

As Arthur stepped into the storage room, he spotted a trap-door and another spanker stationed onto the ceiling. Hmm, this must be the way out.. Why else would he put a Spanker inside this room?

* * *

Arthur couldn't remember the immediate events, all he could recall was that he saw the processing meat and rushed to the toilet, puking profusely. Up until now he had held it in, but seeing the meat get turned into Bundt-cake had sort of flipped his stomach.

How could he do this? Pack and deliver humanmeat to other _humans?! _

It repulsed Arthur to an unimaginable level. His gut hurt, trying to get rid of what was left of his last meal. Finding he could no longer puke, Arthur shakily stood back up. He looked up to the mostly shattered mirror, taking in deep-long breathes.

Guess I better get back out there before, Mr Cutty gets twitchy with his Spankers…

Arthur somehow managed to get through the rest of the day without puking. He sighed tiredly after the particularly gruesome day. And after all of that; he was _still _trapped here. Geez, Mr Cutty wasn't kidding when he said permanent, was he? The butcher had allowed him a break for the day, saying he did an excellent job and was sure to do even better the next day.

Pfft as if I'm going to stay another day! Arthur had planned out a promising escape; if he were to sabotage one of Mr Cutty's new machines, he could get into the trap-door and escape! All he had to do was get the part of machinery to stick into the… 'Package'.

Oh god, does that mean I have to stick the part into the _meat_? Arthur felt disgusted at the mere thought.

He decided he would get the part from the _Eviscerator…_ He snuck back down stairs and retrieved the broken part, hoping that Mr Cutty was also taking a break and not watching his every move.

Or at least think he was cleaning..

Jogging back up two steps at a time, Arthur rushed back into the room he woke up in. Wanting to get some much-needed rest, after-all, it was going to be a busy-day.

"Are you ready for another day of servin' people?"

Arthur jumped, falling out of the uncomfortable mattress. His eyes flicking to the shuttered windows, no light peeked through. Odd.

"I mean serving _the _people.." The butcher laughed darkly "It's my little joke!" He seemed to be quite a narcissist, didn't he?  
Brushing off his dirtied suit, Arthur went over his plan again in his head:

-Stick the broken part in the body.

-Get Mr Cutty to come down and fix it

-Run to the basement

-Escape

Seemed easy enough… Right? Hopefully. This time the door was already open, Arthur stepped out slightly more confidently than the previous day. He ran his fingers over the texture of the broken piece, the cool metal quite soothing.

He took deliberate steps, hoping he wasn't being too suspicious. Stepping over to the button next to the hanging corpse, Arthur stuck the piece of metal into the package where Mr Cutty would have difficulty seeing. Gagging at the rubbery texture and disturbing sounds. Then pressing the button, he waited. Loud clatter and screeches nearly instantaneously filled Arthur's ears, a familiar ringing returning.

"Uhh- something bad happened!" Arthur blurted out, he came across as genuinely worried. He was, but not for the exact same reasons Mr Cutty thought.

Seriously, are you having second thoughts, now? Arthur thought crossly.

"I better come down there-" The butcher's voice cut off, as he left the speaker and entered Arthur's 'work-place'. Arthur began to walk away from the scene and in the direction of the cellar. He turned the corner, walking directly into something, or _someone. _

Arthur jumped back upon seeing Mr Cutty, a loud shriek escaping his throat, escaping better than he could a butcher. How pathetic.

"S-sorry! I- uh…" His gaze shifted frantically around the room. Quick, Arthur- Think!

His gaze fell upon the machine, an idea quickly filtering into his head.  
"-I thought that you might need tools, so I was going to get you some!"

Mr Cutty's eyes narrowed for a second, his stare only breaking when more clatter came from the machine. He pushed Arthur aside in favour for the room. Only growling out a small,

"Don't go anywhere- I just need to see what's wrong first."

As soon as he was out of sight, Arthur, of course immediately went somewhere. That somewhere, being his way to the cellar.

Quietly, he attempted to sneak away, hoping that he went pretty much unnoticed. As soon as he was sure that he was out of immediate danger, he took longer strides, rushing down the stairway.

Making his way to the bottom, he creaked open the closet door and if just on cue he heard the butcher's cry of absolute horror.

"What on earth did you do to it?!"

Not wanting to be caught red-handed, Arthur hopped down into the basement, his heart thumping in his throat.


	3. Chapter 3: Butcher's Bobby

Constable Hark leaned his weight on the wall behind him. He couldn't get that downer off his mind. Was he alright? He didn't particularly seem all that great in out-running bobbies… Though to be fair, Hark was one of the fastest of his area, being _one_ of the youngest.  
The actual youngest, however was in fact, Constable Mervin, who had a much fitter life-style than Hark. That bobby was much faster, and quite agile.

And a douche.

Constable Hark let a chuckle slip out, closing his eyes in contentment. This had to be one of the quietest watches he's ever had. Which is quite unusual, considering his current shift was at Mr Cutty's butchery, who currently left to run errands. He was a good man from what Hark could tell, but he leaned a tad-bit on the creepy-side of things.

A feint, but constant banging sound came from behind him.

Constable Hark cracked open one of his eyes, he swore he had heard something. Stepping lightly toward the back wall, he leaned in. Straining his ears, he could hear what sounded like some shady deal. from memory, it sounded like it was happening in the back alleyway.

"So, what are yow looking for today?" A gravely voice questioned confidently.

"I heard there is- you know, a fake Joy?"

Constable Hark's eyes widened at the lady's voice. Why would anyone want _fake _joy?

"So, you'd be wantin' Sunshine then? Quite pricey." The voice stopped for a second, continuing after the short pause.

"Why are you going off your Joy?"

"Y'see I can't stand _not_ remembering things anymore. I want to remember- so I can't take my Joy.." The woman nervously explained herself.

Something about the conversation struck the constable, his chest swelling with anxiety. Why? Why is this stressing me out, I've handled countless drug deals, not to mention homicide cases! So why this conversation?

"You _want _to remember?!" The shady dealer bellowed out in mock laughter at the lady's misery.

"It's not just that, I keep puking a-and getting ill a few minutes after I take my Joy." The lady spoke defensively, "I just _can't _take it anymore!" She had now begun to scream.

Constable Hark's vision became blurred, as tears began to roll out of his eyes. She must be bringing me down, he reasoned. He grabbed his blackberry pill bottle, dropping it when a horrible screeching began to fill his mind.

No, _no. _He was having another episode- he didn't want to remembe-

"_Charleston, we have to talk." The hesitant sad look she gave him worried Hark. He never saw her like that before._

"_What is it?" He asked cautiously._

"_Just.. Take a seat- Please." Okay, this grew more worrisome by the minute. He sat down on his sofa, patting the seat beside him, inviting her. However, she took the seat directly in front of him, slouching and a glaze in her eyes._

"_It's about the Joy."_

"_What about the Joy?" He asked unsure._

_She let out a tired sigh, her gaze flicking to the boiling kettle for a moment.  
"Ebony. What about the Joy?" He tried more firmly, worry leaking into his voice._

_Ebony still sat there, not saying a thing, as she slowly shook her head. Constable Hark was quickly becoming impatient. The kettle making a screeching sound, signifying it was ready. He just got back from his long-gruelling shift, wanting nothing more than a good-nights rest._

"_Ebony, what's going on?" He raised his voice slightly. Still no answer._

"_EBONY-"_

"_It's not __**WORKING**__, okay?!" She shouted in distress._

_Charleston just sat there, his eyes and face widening in complete horror. He quickly shook his head, quietly chanting out 'No' repeatedly._

"_This- this isn't true is it?" He faced Ebony, tears welling up in his eyes. Oh god, she's bringing me down.._

"_It's just a joke, right?" Charleston began to sadly laugh, slowly building up into hysteria._

_The kettle began to make a horrible noise, it sounded as if someone was screaming. Ebony let her sad smile drop into a complete frown, her bottom lip twitching. She shook her head, avoiding eye contact._

"_I'm afraid not.." She croaked._

_That did it. Constable Hark burst into tears, hysterically laughing, panic gleaming his eyes. This cannot be happening, it just can't! It's not fair. _

Steps sounded from just outside of the door, snapping the Constable from his memory. The illegal deal must have already finished, as he couldn't hear anyone outside the back anymore. Charleston began to rub his eyes feverishly, trying to get rid of the tears that had successfully escaped his eyes.

Just as Constable Hark straightened himself up and dusted off any dirt, Mr Cutty opened the front door, flashing an award-winning smile- And by 'award-winning smile', he meant: Most terrifying smile of the decade award.

"Good evening, Mr Cutty." He smiled back "I take it your errands ran smoothly?"

The butcher tilted his head and quirked a single brow. "What errands?"

The red bobby looked at him, with a look of complete confusion.

"The errands you told me, you had to… Finish up?" His voice nearly squeaked towards the end. Please, if anything freaks me out more, it's when Mr Cutty doesn't remember something!

My last shift here, he forgot to tell me that he was making rat-sausages. And what a jolly sight that was.

He shivered at the memory, at no end was Charleston squeamish- hell, if he had been, he wouldn't be a Constable now, would he? No, he just didn't appreciate walking into his work place and watching a butcher grind up a whole rat. Especially if that rat was going into the meat _he _ate.

"Ah yes! Those.. Errands." Mr Cutty finally responded. He was now at the counter setting his shop up and cleaning a few knives to pass the time.

Constable Hark let out a long sigh, the tension in his shoulders releasing. He was finding that the calm shift was quite restful. Appreciating the rare breather, he tilted his head back and leaned against the wall once more, a placating smile bridging across his mask.

Just as he finally relaxed, the shop door opened. Letting out a quiet frustrated huff, he looked toward the door, standing up straight. His jaw went slack, as he realised who had come through the door. Not Edmund, not a usual customer, but the exact downer from before. Glasses and everything.

Constable Hark realised that the man seemed to carry himself awkwardly. He seemed nervous. The Constable, however, could recall that he was like that the last time. Maybe he's just naturally like that?

The man wouldn't look at him, as if he were ignoring that he existed. He can't have forgotten me already, he doesn't take Joy. Maybe he just doesn't recognise me from the other bobbies, or maybe I make him feel uncomfortable?

Constable Hark let the two talk, he had picked up a few suspicious pieces in their chat, but he didn't pay much attention to it, Mr Cutty usually made deals with customers, it _should _be fine.

In fact, it's very strange that he ran errands this morning, now that Charleston thought about it. Usually, he would get one of his 'suppliers' or 'meat-boys' to get them done. It _should _be fine, he repeated to himself.

But no matter how much he told himself that, there was still that odd feeling that sunk in his stomach. Ignoring it, he thought about what the two had said about Edmund. He was like a innocent sweet chil- He seemed young for his age. He was also a great friend.

The Plough boys, eh? Poor lad. Maybe he should pay him a visit after his shift? He should be at the bar. He usually is. That young lad is quite persistent as well, I wouldn't put it past him to show up at the bar even _with _two broken legs.

Constable Hark smiled fondly. Edmund was a great lad, very friendly.

Ed was someone anyone could trust, he honestly couldn't see Edmund becoming a downer. He was always so cheery and optimistic, especially when it came to people. Maybe he could even get him a gift? So that he doesn't focus on his broken legs.

That's a good idea, he'll pick something up for him as soon as his shift ends.


	4. Chapter 4: A Stitch In Time

Constable Hark took a step out into the cool-fresh air. His shift had finally ended, meaning he could go and pay a visit to Edmund. But first, he wanted to get him a gift.

What _does _Edmund like, anyway? He seems to have expressed a fondness to all sorts of things, especially birds. Constable Hark could recall the once, when Edmund had ran to him, freaking out about a crow that had fallen out of a tree.

Maybe he could get him something to do with birds? Which would prove to be difficult, since crows seemed to be the only ones around nowadays. Not many people liked crows, so there wouldn't be much gifts to do with them, and he certainly couldn't just _get _Eddie a crow, could _he_? Maybe it was his only choice, Edmund did take good care of that other crow.. Before it flew off.

Nah, not a good idea. What if the bloody-thing flies off like the other one? He would be devastated, and Charleston didn't want to be the reason Edmund could ever become a downer.

Just then, something caught his eye. Something _pink. _Charleston looked up to see that he was walking past a sign, that read 'A Stitch In Time'. Mrs Pankhurst. Hark had nearly forgotten the old lady.

Maybe she could help me? The Constable thought before shuffling indoors.

He followed the signs upstairs and glanced sideways as he passed by a shuttered door. I wonder what used to be there?

Finally, he had reached the top and was staring curiously at the bell. Did she still even have a business? Shaking the thought, he rang anyway and waited.

An old lady slowly hobbled to the counter, a sweet smile plastered on her mask.

"Oh, Constable! A delight it is to see you!" She spoke enthusiastically.

"Evening, ma'am." Hark greeted. "I was wonderin' if you could help me with something?"

"Anything for you Constable!"

"Are you able to make any _customised _items?"

"What do you mean, exactly?" Mrs Pankhurst asked curiously.

Charleston glanced around the empty hall for a second and then inside the window.

"Do you have a scrap of paper, ma'am?"

The lady smiled and walked away without speaking, returning with a pen and paper. "Is this good?"

Charleston nodded, thanking the lady, as he began to quickly scribble. He was in no way a good artist, but a few semesters of criminal-sketches in the police academy may have taught him one or two things. And of course; like the lovely woman Mrs Pankhurst was, she waited patiently.

Leaning back, Constable Hark looked over his very rough draft. His tongue sticking out and head tilted, he made sure he got every important detail into it. Finally, he smiled and happy with the diagram, handed it over to Mrs Pankhurst.

"Could you do something like this, before 9:00?" The constable motioned toward the piece of paper nervously. He really didn't want to be a bother, but it was 7:30 and he needed to get _something _meaningful for Eddie.

"Of course, Charlie! This is child's play, compared to all the clothes I make."

The constable winced slight at the nickname, it bothered him, and he didn't know why. Luckily, the odd behaviour went unnoticed by the very busy and very excited old lady.

The Constable sat on the dishevelled, ripped sofa. He honestly couldn't get the nickname out of his head. The woman's voice echoing 'Charlie', over and over. It disturbed him, to a small, but noticeable extent.

But he couldn't figure out _why_.

He looked over his shoulder, at his Bobby helmet. He found comfort in looking at it. Maybe it's because it's the helmet he received for his first shift? But then it would just have sentimental value, it shouldn't necessarily comfort him.

Charleston ran his gloved hands through his curly-ish hair. Why was everything such a mystery? It was his past for god's sake! It _shouldn't _be a mystery- Huffing quickly, he grabbed his helmet and went to place it atop his head. Only pausing to notice strange marks scratched into the inner-mesh. His eyebrows creased.

_Odd. _Was that always there?

The bobby sat the head-wear on his lap, inspecting the Chicken-scratch. He ran his fingers over the texture, an odd warmth of familiarity radiating from the sensation.

A feint, but sincere smile slowly inched it's way on his face. He didn't know why, but he could feel a well of giddiness erupt in his body. It was as if the engravings were an on switch to the spa, that was his stomach. Allowing his cheer to foam and become an overwhelming amount of bubbly-joy.

"Constable, I know there isn't such thing as 'too much joy', but you need to at least pay attention to the world!" Mrs Pankhurst giggled, snapping Hark out of his half-conscious state.

"Oh, my sincerest apologies, Mrs Pankhurst! I didn't mean to make you wait." He stood up, brushing his pants off.

"Oh, don't be so humble!" The lady cried out joyfully, handing over a small bag to the Constable. Taking it, he nodded and reached into his pocket to pull out his sovereigns. "Oh, dear no, it's on the house Constable!" Mrs Pankhurst rose her hands up, denying any payment.

"You Constables do enough for frail old women like me!"

Constable Hark left the money on the counter, smiling toward her. "Ma'am, as happy I am for your gratitude, I must insist I pay like everyone else. I just do my duty; everyone's safety is payment enough."

Slowly walking away, he turned his head back to her, lazily pointing to the counter. "The money is there if you decide you want it." Then he continued on his merry way.

It was only just 8:30, most wellies would be leaving the pub by now, clambering in the general direction of their homes. Not Edmund though, he usually stayed behind to see if he could convince the bartenders to let him wash the dishes. Charleston chuckled at the very thought, he was a sweet lad. He _really _was.

The Constable slowly drew the door open, spotting many of his work-colleagues chatting away, over a pint of scotch. The vibrant and warm oranges was quite the contrast compared to the cool blues and purples that seemed to hang around during night-time.

Finally, in the corner of the room, he spotted him. Edmund was sitting in a booth by himself all the way in the farthest corner. Even though Eddie was a people's person, he usually grew quite tired when it became late.

I only have 30 minutes, tops.

Constable Hark slowly and gently pushed past the remaining few people that lingered in the bar. A feeling of pure awe washing over him, as he saw Edmund's grin and how his eyes twinkled upon seeing the Constable.

"Hello, Constable Hark!" He blurted excitedly.

Okay, _maybe _he wasn't tired.

"Evenin', Edmund." He tipped his helmet and chuckled slightly. His smile then turned a little more serious. "I heard you had a run-in with the Plough-boys?" He asked, slowly reaching his hand to Eddie's shoulder. Looking at him for any signs of discomfort, before finally settling a comforting pat there.

"Yes, how did you know?" Edmund asked in wonderment, before immediately forgetting the question, in favour a different one.

"OH- Do you know how long it takes for broken legs to get, un-broken?" The young man stared up at the Constable, a face of pure innocents.

_Christ-oh-mighty _did he feel like an old lady, just ready to pinch at his cheeks.

"I'm afraid It might take a while, Eddie." He gently spoke, trying his best to mollify the reality of the situation.

"Oh.." Edmund seemed to lose his eagerness anyway. _Shit. _

"But- I got you something to pass the time!" Constable Hark used his most convincing enthusiastic voice. Eddie already seemed to be brightening up, sitting up and attempting to scoot closer to the Constable.

Charleston finally sat down beside Edmund revealing a bag from behind his back. He handed it to the beaming man.

"This is for you, Eddie."

Just as Constable Hark thought the lad couldn't smile wider, he was immediately proven wrong.

"Thank you, Charlie! You're good!" Edmund chirped as he pulled out a soft crow-plush. This time, when he was called by the nickname, he didn't bat an eye, instead he felt a swell of pride.

Briefly an image flashed in his head. One of a woman. She seemed very familiar, her tied up black hair and short dainty frame, very fresh in his mind. This time though, his thought process couldn't be interrupted, the mysterious lady pulling him in too deeply into his own mind.

"_Charlie!"_

_The newly employed bobby turned at the mention of his nickname, a real, meaningful smile plastered on his mask. "Ebony?" he called back. He honestly didn't expect her to show up here for his first shift._

"_Of course, you oaf!" She giggled teasingly, punching his shoulder, or at least what she could reach._

"_Who else has an absolute doll voice like mine?" Charleston Hark laughed along with her. He couldn't believe the day he had so far. It was incredible!_

_He recalled waking up and receiving a new letter along with an odd package through the blower. Confused and tired soon replaced with excitement and giddiness. It had read out:_

_Dear, Charleston Hark._

_We have received your request to become a fully-fledged Constable. We are happy to confirm that, you, have indeed met the requirements and shall take your first shift today at exactly 10:00 AM._

_To celebrate your beginnings as a Constable, we have arranged an initiation party. This will be arranged for tomorrow at 7:00 PM sharp. We suggest that you bring your uniform (located within the package) and leave all casual-wear at home._

_If you are, for some reason, unable to make the shift or party, we suggest that you pop a joy, and try again some other time, when you are fit for this job._

_-The Constabulary_

_A party? He smiled. Just for him, just to welcome him. Charleston already felt at home as part of the team. Looking to the clock on the wall beside him, he rushed into his room to get dressed. Bloody hell, it was 9:10!_

_By the time he came out of his room he realised he hadn't picked up his helmet. Frantically he ran around the lounge, looking under the cushions and pulling the sofas up to glance under. Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he turned, nearly dropping the sofa on his toe from the suddenness. He yelped at the sound of the furniture hitting the floor._

_Relief flooded his systems however, when he saw it was just Ebony, holding his helmet smugly. He rolled his eyes friendlily, snatching his uniform from her grasp, she jokingly stuck her tongue out in response._

"_So, did you take my helmet, just so I would be late?" He asked a hint of humour in his tone._

_Ebony shrugged avoiding eye-contact, that iconic smirk flashing on her beautiful face._

"_Close enough, but I was actually hoping to watch you freak out over being late." She laughed. "And I must say, when does the show come out on the tele?" _

Constable Hark blinked his eyes open, only now just realising the pleasant feeling spread throughout his body. He felt happy, content even. This Ebony, he had no doubt was close to him. Hell, he admitted to a downer that this person had affected him!

But, he couldn't quite remember _who _she was to him, exactly. Not yet at least. Looking beside him, he noticed a note where Edmund was meant to be sitting, it read:

_Sory Charly! I had too go home too go sleep. Thank you! -Edmund_

Edmund's obvious spelling mistakes were too hard to ignore, even in his messy and tired writing. It wasn't that it bothered him, it was rather cute actually.  
No, it just felt distracting in a way. Probably because after you read so many legal forms and contracts, you begin to become a bit of a grammar fanatic.

Finally, he stood up shakily, his body tired and protesting any movement. Pocketing the small note he made his way to the door and waved farewell to the bartender, who was probably too busy cleaning up after Charleston's co-workers, to even notice.

Stepping outside he finally came out of his sleepy daze, the cold air freezing his face and waking his muscles up.

Best I head home, you never know when you have a shift; until it's last-minute of course.

No matter how tired he was, Hark decided to take the long way to his home. More specifically, the way that went past Mr Cutty's butchery. 'Meat was like gold these days' he thought, quoting the common saying.

He couldn't say that the quote was wrong, either. So, ever since he made it an effort to check the Butchery at least once every few nights- Just to make sure there were no break-ins.

As he approached the building, he could hear loud crashes and screeches. He picked up his pace, soon finding himself to be running.

_Shit, what's going on?_

Loud and familiar muffled yells could be heard through the door. He tried to turn the knob, just in case. _Strange, _it's unlocked. Who ever is in there _didn't _break in.

Now muffled screams of complete horror and distraught could be heard echoing from where ever it originated from. The Constable soon kicked into serious action.

He reared back and prepared himself, his elbow extending outwards from his body. He slammed his full body weight into the door, grunting from pain. The screams soon sounded more like shrills and shrieks. It sounded like a slaughter-house, more than a butchery. Repeatedly rearing back and smashing the door, he began to sweat anxiously.

Dear _god, _whatever was happening in there would surely haunt him.


	5. Chapter 5: The Streets

"ARE YOU IN THE CELLAR?!" Mr Cutty roared furiously. Arthur nearly tripped on the small steps, trying to get away from the locker he had reclaimed his stuff from. He heard footsteps and faint whistling, as Mr Cutty climbed down the ladder.

Arthur quickly darted to the room beside the entrance, his fragile hope shattering for what felt like the millionth time that week.

Where is the exit?! There's no door, It's just a dead-end!

Sweat pooled down his face, the whistling he could hear from Mr Cutty stopped. "There you are, you troublesome meat-boy!"

He snapped around, nearly pulling a muscle as he did so. Mr Cutty was tapping a remote-control slowly and threateningly. Only now had Arthur noticed, that the cellar was also littered with Spankers. Returning his attention to the butcher, the man's face showed only twisted and evil emotions- If you could even call them emotions, that is.

Just as the butcher began to charge up the Spanker in the current room, Arthur noticed that it only started to charge one of them.

Maybe he can only control one Spanker at a time?

Quickly, he had ran toward Mr Cutty. The butcher's face now replaced with a look of confusion. Pushing him aside, the butcher let out a grunt and dropped his remote. Arthur ran around and made random turns, being as quiet as possible. Trying to confuse the butcher and hoping he loses sight of him.

However, the butcher recovered quickly. Arthur screamed loudly when the butcher came from behind and snatched him.

He struggled frantically in the butcher's harsh grasp, trying to elbow him, but falling short. Mr Cutty had the advantage, soon replacing his grip with a headlock, attempting to make Arthur pass-out.

He couldn't breathe- He was going to faint! God, what was Mr Cutty going to do to him after his attempted escape? Surely the man wouldn't fall for the façade and trickery again. That is- if there is another time to attempt, by the end of the week he could very well be in some woman's stew!

Arthur's screams turned into shrieks and soon began to slowly die out, as his breath slowed down. His vision blurred, blinking repeatedly in attempts to fix his eyesight. His eyes started to roll back, body going slacker by the passing second.

Suddenly however, a faint but consistent smashing could be heard upstairs. Immediately grabbing Mr Cutty's attention, as it got louder and more desperate. His grip loosening slightly, but just enough. Arthur took his opportunity and elbowed him in the gut, effectively winding the man.

Ducking under one of the many wine-shelfs, Arthur held his breath. Mr Cutty had begun cursing under his breath- Which soon turned to angered yelling. He held an emptied glass, which had previously contained alcoholic contents, judging by the strong scent.

That sound must've come from a door, meaning someone was trying to get in. Arthur smiled, this meant there _is _a way out!

Mr Cutty ignored the distraction in favour of finding Arthur. The butcher grew close, now standing right in front of him. Arthur had tensed in fright, leaning away from the man and hurling the empty bottle across the room.

The bottle must have hit a pile of other glasses, as the shatter was incredibly loud. Mr Cutty turned around, laughing deviously as he stepped toward the source of the commotion.

Taking advantage of the situation, Arthur lightly glided toward the ladder. He climbed quickly and slammed the cellar door shut. Putting a paint bucket to weigh it down. It wouldn't stop Mr Cutty from getting back out, but it certainly would slow him down.

Arthur didn't know where to go now. Where else could he go? Damnit! I should've thought this through.

Memories ran through his head, trying to figure out what places he hadn't checked. Just then, a loud crash echoed from somewhere nearby. Arthur turned his head to an open door, that's where Mr Cutty kept watch of me, wasn't it?

Of course- He must've forgotten to close the door when coming back up! Must be they way out as well, it made better sense than the cellar.

"YOU BASTARD- YOU TRICKED ME!" Mr Cutty swore as he banged on the cellar door violently.

Arthur immediately raced toward the other room and locked the way he came through, spotting another ladder and trap-door. Quickly, he scrambled up to the exit, opening the trap-door and breathing in the scent of fresh air.

Or as fresh as it gets in a butchery..

He slumped over, shakily huffing. It felt like his heart was going a hundred miles a minute. He couldn't get over the withdrawal that came from his adrenaline. God, I'm getting old..

"Reg?"

Arthur looked up, frightened. Making eye-contact with a red-bobby. The bobby's face dropped upon spotting Arthur, confusion and shock written all over. He seemed very familiar, but Arthur couldn't point out why. He met dozens of bobbies on a daily basis. Well, mostly on the days he spent _not_ being kidnapped by a lunatic-butcher.

"What's going on? Where is Reg?" The bobby began to question.

Arthur shook, maybe I should tell him? I mean he _is_ a bobby- it's his job to stop these sorts of things from happening.

"Mr Cutty is turning cadavers into V-meat-" He began.

"I barely escaped becoming V-meat myself! He's got these horrible machines that turn people into… Meat Bundt cake!" Arthur spoke shakily, still recovering from the event.

"Human Bundt cake?!" The Constable had gagged. "That's monstrous! Is he armed?"

"He has a rather nasty Spanker, but I think I trapped him in the cellar.." The Constable nodded, seeming only slightly less shocked now.

"Right, I'll knock out the power. Just, stay outside until I do." The bobby reassured.

Arthur took a long-deep breath, now a little calmer than before. He walked outside, avoiding any splinters from the broken door and sat down on the cool curb-side. He glanced at the cloudy night-sky, taking in how calming the deep blues were.

No wonder there was no light, it's past curfew. Mr Cutty didn't even give him a full-nights rest before pushing him to more work!

Constable Hark shut-down the power and asked his co-workers to be on stand-by, in case anything went wrong. Climbing down the ladder he removed a fairly-heavy paint-bucket and slowly opened the cellar.

Where a furious butcher leaped out and attacked him. Reg Cutty attempted to pin him down, blinded by rage. Failing miserably, when the constable over-powered him and snatched his arms. Charleston snapped hand-cuffs onto the butcher's wrists, effectively restricting his movement and preventing him from retaliating.

The man attempted to twist around to look at Hark, froth foaming at his mouth as he yelled at him.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME- _I'M _THE PILLAR OF THE COMMUNITY!"

He pulled Reg Cutty up to a standing position and shoved him outside to his co-workers. Constable Mervin taking custody of the butcher and smirking.

"IT'S ALL _LIES-_ I'M ONLY TRYING TO FEED PEOPLE! YOU'RE LETTING PERFECTLY GOOD MEAT GO ROTTEN!"

That rat-bastard will get what's coming to him, he better mention me as part of capturing Mr Cutty, at _least_.

Finally, after the man was dragged away, quite forcibly, Constable Hark turned to the downer. It was interesting that he keeps running into this man, he should really keep an eye on him.

He outstretched his hand as he sat beside the downer. "Constable Hark, or Charleston- if you prefer." Taking his hand and shaking, the downer hesitantly spoke. "Arthur Hastings."

Only then, did a wave of realisation pass over Arthur's face.

"Wait- were you that bobby from the alley-way?" He questioned.

Charleston nodded. So, he didn't recognise me.. That's a little more comforting than finding out that I make him uncomfortable, I guess..

"It's past curfew, it wouldn't be safe to travel alone. Would you care to come to my place for the night?" Hark asked awkwardly.

He really didn't want Arthur to go to the shelter- It was much too far and dangerous, especially at night. He was honestly surprised Arthur hadn't contracted some sort of fatal disease from a stray rat by now.

Arthur hesitantly nodded, unsure of if he should trust the Constable. But decided that he was far too tired and could figure everything out in the morning. He yawned weakly, on the verge of passing out. Trying to escape cannibal-butchers tended to do that to you.

Charleston grabbed hold of Arthur and slung him on his broad shoulders. There was no way the downer would make it to his house without falling asleep, he chuckled deeply.


	6. Chapter 6: Rest For The Tired

Charleston smiled as he slowly creaked the guest room door closed. He had been right. Not a few minutes later of carrying Arthur toward his home, the poor guy passed out.  
Now lying wrapped in a comfortably-warm, duvet. His glasses on the side and his mouth hanging open. He looked like this was the best bed in the world!

It must be difficult having to pretend to be something you're not, just to _survive. _

Luckily, he had a guest bedroom for him to sleep in. Otherwise the constable would have slept on the couch and his back would make sure to remind him during work. Oddly enough, Charleston couldn't remember exactly who the guest bedroom was meant for.

Though, he had his suspicions that it could be, 'Ebony'. It felt strange thinking about someone you were meant to be _close _to, with only snippets of memories.

He lightly crept away, making sure his wooden floorboards didn't creak on his way down the stairs. He had no doubt that someone who had survived the Garden District, would be a fairly light sleeper.

Finally making it to the first floor, he sat on the sofa thinking. What do I do now? I can't just _hide _him, I would lose my job, not to mention the danger he would be in! He glanced to the clock tiredly.

10:15

God, time sure goes by when saving awkward Downers from Cannibalistic-Wellies. Maybe he should talk to Arthur about what to do about their situation in the morning. Afterall It's not just his choice, and they _should _(maybe) be safe for awhile if Arthur agrees to lay low. Hark is a bobby, so they shouldn't suspect him for having a stowaway in his own home… Not immediately, at least.

Finally, after reading a little, he decided he had enough for the day, the weary Constable stood up stretching his spine until it popped and scratched his lower-back. He let a satisfied grunt and shuffled to his room on the second floor.

He cringed at the slightest creak, not just because he didn't want to wake Arthur, but because he was starting to get a headache from all the action from the past couple of days.

Reaching his bedroom, Charleston left his door unlocked. Just in case Arthur got into trouble. Which counting from the few, but regular run-ins; seemed to be his _thing_.

Closing his eyes, he attempted to sleep. But his head throbbed even worse. He did stop taking joy, because he was interested in his memories, so maybe this is what a joy withdrawal is like? He honestly expected to feel a whole lot worse.  
Charleston was never happier to remember a drug deal in a back alley.. Okay, that was a very poor choice of words.

Thank god for shady dealers. Was Arthur on Sunshine as well?

Arthur kept tossing and turning, sweat pouring down his forehead. He sat up, grumbling and rubbing his face.

God_ damnit, _Arthur- Just sleep!

Throwing the blanket aside, he got up and decided to snoop around a bit. He wasn't used to sleeping in another person's house, let alone a _Constable's. _So, he might sleep better if he knew the layout..

Plus, he was a bit hungry.

Arthur lightly stepped down the stairs. _Jesus, _first he falls down Mrs Sapper's stairs, then rushes down Mr Cutty's and now he's sneaking down Constable Hark's. What _is _it with him, stairs nowadays.

He turned his head, looking back up toward where he assumed the Constable slept. Was something bad going to happen to him here, as well? What ever it is, it better not be an empty fridge. Arthur finished climbing down the stairs and tiptoed around, looking for the kitchen. He only got glances of the house since he was barley awake coming in.

Looking around he found a dining table, with a book sitting on top of it. It looked like a diary, an old diary. Arthur opened it up to a random page.

_Blank, _huh? That means it was never finished..

Starting at the beginning of the diary he skimmed through, until he found a page with a bookmark in it. Had the Constable been reading this as well? Arthur began to read the segment.

Today was my first day in the workforce, it was brilliant! I finally get to work as a Constable, this has been my dream ever since.. Actually, I can't remember.

It could be the blackberry I got put on. All the bobbies have to take it, it's extra strong so it lasts longer during our shifts. So, maybe the effects are stronger as well..

The Doctor who prescribed it to me.. Doctor Carlos, I think it was? Said that after taking blackberry joy, I would no longer be tolerant to any other flavours.  
He said that I would get horrible cramps and awfully ill if I did. Nothing fatal, but definitely nothing pleasant.

Oh, yeah! Ebony, the bloody woman stole my helmet before I got dressed. Nearly dropped the couch on my toes looking for it. Though, it was really heart-warming when I found out _why _she actually stole it.

It was during my shift actually, I had taken off my helmet to look at it closely. I didn't have the chance since I was rushing around to get ready and I was just so ecstatic to finally be a Constable, I had to look at my uniform!

And inside the mesh.. It read:

"Charleston Hark, finally got your dream job? You better be as proud as I am of you! I love you so much, you're an amazing brother. Even if we aren't blood-related, I really couldn't have asked for anything more."

I have to admit, I almost cried. I _would _have cried if it weren't for a downer running past shouting about rats in his pants. Honestly, it was hilarious. I have no clue how the man even got rats in there. Weren't downers careful where they leave their clothes?

This is definitely one of my best days ever, I'll make sure to treasure this memory.

Arthur winced slightly, Charleston didn't remember, _did _he? Judging by the dark grey splotches on the page, he must have read it recently. He cried didn't he? Because he finally remembered?

Shit. A depressed Constable, in charge of cleaning the streets of depressed people.. How utterly _ironic._

Forgetting the hunger, Arthur crept upstairs and listened outside of the Constable's door. He could hear light snoring. Tomorrow is going to be awkward. How do possibly explain to someone, 'Oh, hey I read your _personal _diary without your permission. While you were _asleep.'_

This was going to be an awkward morning. Arthur snuck back into the guest room silently. Curling back up into the duvet. However, he couldn't help but think.

Did she sleep in here?


End file.
